In Between Two Stars
by kashfaberry
Summary: Fate hadn't been kind to them, but really, they were just trying to do the best they could. -  warning: incest, prostitution, rape, murder, triggery things.


**Title:** In Between Two Stars  
><strong>Author:<strong> Kashfaberry

Disclaimer: We do not own _Glee._

**AN:** For the record, this is entirely Kira's fault. As in, entirely her idea and her fault.

* * *

><p>It never failed to both amaze and sadden her at how full the youth shelters always were when she stumbled in from the cold, holding fast to his hand for warmth as he led them towards the check-in counter. They were always sure to use different names, if they were ever asked, but she knew their names made little difference to the people who made up their underground world. They were the broken, the abused, the left behinds and each had their own set of vices. They wouldn't dare judge her, lest their own secrets be exposed. Even still, her secret was one she held fast to her heart and shared only with him; the world had abandoned them, but they were strong enough together to muddle through. They were as deeply in love as anyone she'd ever known and the fact that he was her brother mattered little to her and even less to him.<p>

Rachel leaned heavily into Blaine's side, his deep voice lulling her into a half-sleep as he gave the volunteer the minimum required information, smiling slightly when she heard her name for the night roll off his lips - _"Maria and Bryan" - _and traded their last crumpled twenty dollar bill through the plastic window for a pair of toothbrushes and a bundle of blankets. The bathroom was always easy to find – just look for the line – and no one even glanced at them when they stepped into the same shower. The hot water poured over them and for the first time in days, Rachel felt herself begin to relax. Her muscles loosened and her aches were soothed away by the gentle touch of his fingertips. The dirt and grime of the streets washed away and she began to feel new, almost as innocent and carefree as she had been before they left home. But that was a long lost time, she remembered as she carefully shampooed Blaine's hair, being mindful of the bloody gash that ran across his temple and disappeared into his hairline. Their lives as they were now were etched into his skin as scars to remind them of the people they had chosen to be.

"Does it still hurt?" she whispered, pressing a light kiss to his cheek.

"I'll be fine," he replied with a wavering smile, though she suspected it pained him more than he let on; but that's what he did. He put on an act, always trying to be the strong one for her sake. It was his way of protecting her, she supposed, and no matter how many times she told him he didn't have to front with her, it didn't matter. He would always take care of her first, and himself second, which was exactly why he needed her. So she would let him be the tough one and she would pick up the pieces when they fell.

They found a cot in a back corner, not private, but secluded enough that it felt like they were alone as they lay down. His arms wrapped around her as they did every night, and she curled into his chest. The heat they created was merely the simplest of pleasures, one they had once only had in brief stolen moments, but it was home to her. She would be content to stay with him like this for eternity.

Of course, reality never let them. At first it had been their parents, keeping them apart in an attempt to cure them of their _"sick and twisted"_ relationship, even going so far as to forcing them to live in separate cities and go to separate schools. But really, Rachel thought, she couldn't be blamed for falling in love just because she had been born into the same family as her soul mate and it had been this thinking that lead her to Blaine's window, suitcase in tow as she asked him to run away with her. She was leaving regardless, she'd said, and the more he tried to talk her out of it, the more resolute she became until his only option was to go with her.

It had been impulsive and reckless, and they were much too young. Learning to live on the streets was the hardest thing she'd ever had to do. She had retrain herself, adjust her morals and most horrifying or all, her hygiene. Somehow, after weeks and weeks of always being on the verge of starvation and exhaustion, they managed to find a routine that worked for them. They kept moving from city to city, never staying in one place for too long at the risk of being tracked down by the police who still had their photos tacked up to a bulletin board of missing children. They learned about the shelters, the soup kitchens and how to stay dry in the rain. The worst of it was finding money. They had their ways; she would sing in a park or a town square or he would work the odd job for a handful of cash, but they almost always ran out.

"That was the last of our money," Rachel sighed heavily, her fingers absently tracing patterns through the thread-bare fabric of his shirt.

"We'll be fine," he said automatically, though his arms tightened around her waist and she knew he was worried. "It was worth it for the shower, wasn't it?"

"If I had known it would cost so much-"

"It's okay," Blaine shushed her with a quick kiss. "I'll think of something."

The silence fell between them, weighing them down as she took a few shuttering breaths. She knew he wouldn't like it, might even get angry that she even suggested it, but it needed to be said. He needed to know it was an option, even if it was their last. "We could go back to what we did before."

"No," he said far too quickly for her taste, though she was hardly surprised. "That was the last time. I promised you that would be the last time and I meant it."

"I want to take care of you," Rachel insisted, keeping her voice soft and light as she did. "I can do my part this way and I- I want to do it."

He stared at her, his golden eyes clouded in disbelief. He reached a hand up through their bodies to stroke her hair before resting his forehead against hers. His anguish shone though his mask as he spoke, "I hate putting you through that."

"I hate watching you go through it too," she reminded him, mirroring his touches with her own, "but at least we're together when it happens and that's more than most people have."

"We'll find another way," he told her, burying his head into her shoulder. He kissed the crook of her neck, a soft and feather-light brush of lips on skin, but she trembled against him regardless. That was the effect he had on her, no matter how serious the circumstances could be. She wound her fingers through his hair, lightly scratching the back of his neck until he drifted off to sleep. She soon followed, her last thought wondering if there was even another way to be found.

-:-

There was nothing Blaine hated more than having to put Rachel through everything that he did. She deserved so much better, deserved a life in a warm house with good food, schooling and the pursuit of dreams he felt she had long forgotten. She'd given up everything for him, and in turn, he had no way to really provide for her.

Jobs were sparse, living on the run. Occasionally they'd find a couple days of work, make some money enough to move to another town, and then they'd be back where they started. The first time it had been an accident, some guy hitting on Rachel as they walked back to the shelter they were staying in for a few days. It wasn't until he was offering Blaine money, 'just for a few minutes, man, come on,' that they realized he was serious, and it was Rachel who nodded and accepted the fate, following him to his car a little ways away. Blaine felt nauseated anytime the thought of someone else touching her crossed his mind, much less someone touching her for money-the money that was stuffed unceremoniously into his pockets as he fought off the urge to break down and cry.

He tried to tell her that that was it, he'd never let her do it again, but soon enough they figured out it was a quick, if not usually emotionally painful, way to make some cash to get them moving again. Blaine hated every moment of it, but they had sat down, made rules. They were a package deal-whether they wanted both of them was up to the person, but Blaine wasn't going to leave Rachel in the hands of some stranger. She was, ultimately, his entire world, his sole responsibility. If they wanted her, they had to deal with Blaine's presence. It lost them quite a few customers, but her appeal-an underage, attractive teenager who seemed to know what she was doing-it brought in more than enough.

If they had any other way of getting money, short of robbing a bank, he wouldn't allow it. It wasn't even the fact that he had to deal with other guys grabbing at her, never working hard enough to make sure it was at least sort of enjoyable for her, although his nightmares often consisted of that. It was that she was too young for this, only 16, and this wasn't a life he wanted for her.

Life had handed them a cold deck of cards, having them fall in love with each other in a way no one would ever understand. And as long as Rachel was the center of his world-which would be always, he knew-they'd have to hide from society.

"Are you sure?" he said as they walked down to the shadier section of town, Rachel shivering a little in her skirt-she didn't dress like some of the girls they often saw, but she knew well enough to wear short skirts and tighter tops when they did this. It helped draw the men in, their eyes lingering towards her frame in a way that Blaine wished he could reserve for himself and himself only. "We can-"

"There's nothing we can do," she said quietly, fingers interlocked with his own. "We have no money, and there's no other way we can get any before we need it. It's fine."

It was anything _but _fine, but Blaine couldn't come up with a sensible solution. Living as they were was difficult to comprehend when he thought about their past-something he tried to do very little. They'd grown up in an upper middle class family, one that had been loving and caring until they realized what their children were up to.

It didn't take long for someone to come up to them, the usual grunt of 'how much' being muttered quietly in their direction. Blaine was always the one to handle the proceedings, Rachel half-hiding behind him as he explained their arrangement. A third of them would walk once he outlined that Blaine would be present at all times, but most didn't actually care. The temptation of Rachel was too much for them, something that Blaine could understand if he thought about it too much.

He tried not to think about it too much.

And then came the job, the work that he hated having to put her through. No matter how many times it happened, Blaine could only take it for so long before he fought against every part of his body that screamed at him to stop this, to pull the guy away, to curl Rachel up in his arms and hold her to him tightly. He had to stop himself from shouting that that was his sister, his girlfriend, his everything, and when it was just the two of them he did everything he could to make sure she knew-she was still his world, she was still everything to him. She was the very reason he was breathing, and one day he'd find them a way out of this.

-:-

Rachel knew they couldn't afford to be picky about the people who came up to them, even if her stomach did churn on the rare occasion Blaine would be propositioned by another woman. She herself had even spent a few of her nights with a girl, but the worst of them all were the men who came after Blaine. No matter how shy or nervous they might seem at first, they were never that way once the door closed behind them and they forced Blaine down on his knees.

She watched if only because she felt like she owed it to him. If she couldn't it from happening all together, the very least she could do was know exactly what it was he went through for her. So she watched him choke with eyes screwed tight, watched his hands ball into fists when the pain took over. He would bite down on his arm, often drawing blood, to hold back his strangled cries when it went too fast. He never complained, just took whatever the money offered called for, but he always came out worse for the wear.

That was the hardest part for her. She had to watch him get hurt and she wasn't allowed to do anything about it. He would leave bruised or limping and would spend the few days hissing in pain with every sharp turn he took, but he still did it and she couldn't convince him otherwise.

"You don't have to be with them," she whispered to him just before sunrise as they walked quietly back the shelter, her arm slung around his waist in support. "I can take-."

"No, Rachel," he groaned as he stumbled over the loose gravel lining the cracked sidewalks. "We make more money when I do it."

"We make enough off me," she tried to argue, but it was a fight they'd had a number of times before, a fight she would always lose. It was never as much about the money as it was about him, about them.

"I won't let you do it alone," he told her and the words were familiar and comforting in the most twisted way she could imagine. "If you do this, I do it; end of discussion."

"It just seemed to affect you so much more than it does me," she pressed, steering him towards an empty bench so they could rest. Her shoulders were sore from holding his weight, and he was starting to favor his left side as his steps turned into shuffles. "Physically, I mean, it just takes so much out of you."

"I tell you every time, I'll be okay," he said with a lazy grin that didn't come at all close to reaching his eyes.

"They don't hurt me like they hurt you," she insisted as she traced a darkening bruise just starting to form on his collarbone.

He just shrugged, brushing her hand off in the process. She hated this part as well, how he would just shut down for a little while and crawl into himself whenever this happened. She felt guilty for even touching him sometimes; he was so uncomfortable. "They don't care about me."

"They don't care about me either Blaine," she reminded him and he turned to look at her, a dry and humorless smile on his face.

"They're gentler with you," he said softly and she balked, remembering her own bruises and stiff mornings. "They use you, but you're so small and tiny, you look like you could break. They like that and it's a power rush to them but trust me, most of them try to hold back."

She hadn't necessarily believed him then, but there was one particular meeting of his that proved her wrong. It had taken all of her strength not to interrupt them, to let the man finish what he had paid for, but Blaine hadn't been able to hold back his screams that night and his only reward was to have his face shoved down into the mattress until he couldn't breathe. What she could see of his neck had turned an alarming shade of violet before he had gone limp just as the man finished and walked away. It had taken her a few panic filled moments to rouse him until he came to, gasping for air. She had started to cry, buried her face in his chest as she curled up next to him on the bed.

"You can't do that to me," she sobbed even as his arms circled protectively around her. "I was so scared."

Blaine tried to comfort her, but his body was shaking with uncontrollable tremors and she realized he was in the process of breaking down, maybe for the first time since all of this had started. As terrified as she had been, he needed her to be the strong one for once. He needed her to do what he did for her whenever it all came to be too much. To tell him he would okay, that she loved him all the same, that he was her perfect and beautiful older brother.

"One day, we'll leave this behind," she whispered, weaving a hand through his loose curls even as he brought his knees to his chest. "We'll buy a house out in the middle of nowhere and it'll be the smallest thing we've ever seen, but it'll be warm. We'll have a real bed and we'll spend all day in it, hiding under the covers like we used to when we were seven."

"No," he croaked, the sound muffled as he pulled closer to her. "We'll have an apartment in New York. You'll sing like you've always wanted to, on a real stage in front of real people who understand the gift you have."

"I'd sing for you," she said with a soft sigh. "No matter where we were, I'd always sing for you."

"Ca-can you?" he stuttered as the tears he'd been fighting back began to fall. "Will you?"

She didn't know what she was singing, if it was an actual song or if she'd just started talking in melody, but Blaine's shaking began to subside as she did and that was enough for her to continue. She sang until her voice became raw, well past the moment Blaine had drifted off to sleep from pure exhaustion. It didn't matter that they were holed up in a dirty hotel room, because for a moment she could pretend they were back in her room, passing the night in each others arms as they often did. When they hadn't hadn't been at war every minute of their lives, when they had actually known some peace.

-:-

Most of the time, they were done within an hour, Blaine slipping into a convenience store to grab some food for them to eat before heading back to wherever they were staying so Rachel could wash up and eat. It was the one positive to their lifestyle, that they could have a few days of rest between encounters, but by the time the money and the food was gone again the sense of dread and guilt came rushing at Blaine like a freight train.

"It'll be my turn, tonight," Blaine offered as they leaned against a building and waited. "You need rest."

"Blaine, we can't control which of us is picked up, and you know it," Rachel reminded him in the soft voice she so often used when they were out doing this.

"I wish I could," he whispered, his voice tender even though he tried to keep that separate from this, any reminder of romance or love away from what they were doing. If it all became a tangled mess even more than it already was, he wasn't sure there would be hope for them to ever escape it. He had to hold onto that hope, even as a taller, stockier man came stumbling over to him, looking more than a little inebriated.

"How much?" he demanded, not even bothering with a preamble of pleasantries. Blaine was used to this, and he and Rachel had done enough talking to other runaways who resorted to this to know what was usually a good pricing point, lowering it a little because of their arrangement but it would be enough to live off for a few days.

"$150," he said calmly, Rachel's hands clutching tightly to Blaine's side. "And I'm there."

"I'm not a _fag_," he spat out, "Don't want you, just the girl."

Blaine's face contorted with annoyance for a moment before he straightened it out. "Didn't say you were," he responded, trying to keep his calm. There was something about the guy that didn't make him feel comfortable, and he would have told him to fuck off and dragged Rachel away had they not spent the last of their money on a place to stay for a few days. "I just said that I have to be there. I won't partake, you'll get what you pay for but-I have to be there."

"So you can sit there and jack off while I fuck your girl? No dice," the guy retorted, Blaine shaking off a visible shudder of disgust. There was nothing about this situation that aroused Blaine in the least, even if it was Rachel, or maybe _because _it was Rachel involved.

"Either I'm there, or we walk," Blaine said in an even voice, the guy sizing him up before finally agreeing.

"Fine, money's at my place, let's go." He grabbed Rachel's arm, Blaine wincing as she looked back at him for comfort, holding onto her hip as comfortingly as he could as they headed towards a motel a block or so over. It was familiar, in the worst way, this walk. Even if it was a different city, a different person, a different room, it all blurred together after awhile. The way she'd cry when she thought he was asleep, the way he'd instinctively hold her closer no matter what he was going through, his fingers toying with the edges of her hair to keep her from the brink of tears.

He had never wanted to become comfortable in this life, and yet it was as familiar as the back of his hand, or the feeling of Rachel's hand in his own.

The guy gave them a moment, in which Blaine brought Rachel to the bathroom to help her clean herself up, her eyes wide in a way Blaine didn't like. "Are you okay?" he whispered, not wanting the guy to overhear them.

"Just nervous, I suppose," she responded just as quietly as he ran a washcloth over her face before pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

"You know the deal, Rachel. If it gets too much, I'm right here. Say our safe word, and he's gone."

"I'll be fine," she promised, leaning forward to kiss him chastely, although it seemed to deepen instinctively until they heard a 'jesus fucking christ' from the doorway before Rachel was pulled away from Blaine without a warning. He tried to go after him, yelling that he didn't get to touch her like _that_, regardless of what he paid for, but his words were useless against the other guy's fist in his face. Blaine fell backwards and hit his head on the bathtub, dazing him. He was only down for a second it seemed, but it was long enough for the door to slam and a chair to be shoved under the door handle on the other side, locking him in and keeping him away from Rachel.

-:-

They had been through some pretty bad things together, but Rachel had never been more terrified than when she heard the door slam shut, cutting her completely off from Blaine. She couldn't even think through the panic that welled in her chest. Her screams were immediate - "Blaine!" - as she fought in vain to get back to him.

The guy dragged her away further and further away from the door, his hand a vice around her arm. Meant to bruise. Meant to hurt. "No!" she cried, twisting away from the bed he led her to. "Let me go!" and she shoved at him but he was much bigger than she was. They always were; and he was tired of her struggling. A bright pain flared across her face as he backhanded her, stunning her into submission just long enough for him to shove her down flat onto the mattress.

She kicked at him, she tried to bite whenever he got close enough to her but it was no use. He didn't care; he laughed even. It was a game to him and no matter how loudly she screamed or if she cried and begged him not to do it, no matter how many times she said "stop" he pressed on. Hands cruel and rough as they tore at her clothes, ripping the seam of her skirt as he pushed it past her hips.

She could hear Blaine screaming her name, pounding in the bathroom door, reaching out for her. But he was too far. He couldn't stop this. No one could stop this. Tears poured from her eyes as the man's hand clasped around the base of her throat, forcing her still as she gasped for air. Her legs were pulled apart and before she could even process the thought, he forced himself into her. It nearly tore her apart every time he moved inside her, too fast and too hard and too much, and she tried. She tried so hard to scream, to get away, but she couldn't even breathe.

Blaine's strangled name slipped past her lips in a noiseless whisper.

-:-

He could hear her, screaming for him, and it burned a hole through his chest as he beat at the door, calling back for her. _This isn't what's supposed to happen_, he cried silently, _this isn't how her life is supposed to go_. He couldn't figure out how to unjam whatever was on the other side of the door, but the longer he had to endure her pleas, her crying and a vicious voice telling her to shut up, the angrier and angrier he got.

"Get off of her!" he screamed in vain through the door, angry tears flooding his vision. "Get off of her!"

He had never, in all his 17 years, felt more useless. He started slamming his shoulder against the door, hoping it'd budge-it didn't usually take much, in run down places like this, and sure enough once he got enough force into him the door cracked enough for him to escape, for once glad for his small form.

It was sheer adrenaline that forced the guy off of Rachel, Blaine's anger too focused on the dick who had been taking advantage of her to worry about her as he threw a punch straight at his jaw. Blaine hadn't fought much, no more than needed, but over the years discrepancies had occurred and he knew how to get somewhere that would knock the other person out. He did so, ducking from the guys fists headed for his own lithe form, panicking when Blaine saw him head back for Rachel.

"I told you to leave her _alone_," Blaine seethed, grabbing the nearest thing he could-a simple dining chair-and aiming it at the back of the guys knees, crippling him enough to bring him down for a minute and give Rachel time to hide herself in the bathroom.

The guy was screaming obscenities at him, getting in a few jabs of his own, but Blaine continued to fight back. He felt nothing but anger and hatred, and it was like everything he was trying so hard to keep at bay was coming at him. That punch was for their parents abandoning them, that one for all the times Rachel had to let a stranger touch her, the swift kick knocking him over was for how they were barely surviving, and soon Blaine found himself sitting on the guys chest, hands around his neck as he gasped for breathe. "I told you not to touch her," Blaine hissed, so sick of all the guys who took and took and took what Rachel so generously gave up for them, for him, and Blaine hated himself just as much as he hated this guy. "I told you to _get off of her_," he continued, but even through the haze of loathing he could see the life leaving the man below him, and it wasn't until his eyes were rolling back that Blaine seemed to realize what he had done.

He had actually killed him, and after a few careful checks of pulse points, Blaine started to really panic.

-:-

She didn't move. Not when Blaine came barreling out of the bathroom, not when he shoved the guy away from her, not when he threw the first punch or even when the man came back towards her. She didn't move until she heard Blaine's voice telling her to run to the bathroom, to hide in the bathroom, "Rachel go!".

Her knees gave out as soon as she felt the cool tiles under her feet and she crawled to the space between the vanity and the toilet, folding herself up as small as she could. It wasn't small enough she thought even as she pressed her back to the wall and hid her head in her hands. Anyone could find her and she started shaking; full body tremors complete with silent, wracking sobs. She wasn't safe here, She wasn't safe anywhere and it was all her fault. Everything. Every time Blaine got hurt, every time they were hungry and cold and sick. She had forced them to leave, had forced them into this and now she was getting her just reward for it. She deserved this, she did. It was her fault.

"We have to leave," Blaine said, stumbling into the bathroom in a frenzy but she didn't even react except to press herself further into the wall. "Rachel, come on, we have to go." His hand brushed away some of her hair and it was gentle and loving and it was Blaine and everything she couldn't handle at the moment. He couldn't love her anymore. She didn't want him to. It was destroying him, ruining him.

She shoved him away and he fell back onto the floor. His hands flew to either side to steady himself and left smears of red on the tile. Blood. It covered his fingers, his wrists, soaked through his shirt, splattered his face, drying in his hair. Blood and she wanted to scream again but instead it came out in a series dry heaves, bile burning her throat as she tried to force it all out of her system. His hands were comforting on her back and she didn't want that. She wanted to fall apart.

Somehow he had gotten her to sit on the bathroom counter as he cleaned her up, pinning her skirt together with a broken paperclip and arranging her shirt to look somewhat decent. He draped his jacket over her shoulders and she pulled it tight around her. He smoothed down her hair and did what he could to fix her makeup even as she cried. He was cleaning her up, but she couldn't imagine why. He did the same for himself, scrubbing the blood off his shaking hands and face as best he could and he looked startling pale underneath all the red.

"Can you stand?" he asked kindly, but there was still a sense of urgency in his voice. She slid off the counter, finding her knees weak and unsteady but she took a step towards the door anyway. He nodded with a tight smile, grabbing the trash liner from the can and threw the remainder of their belonging into it, along with the complimentary hotel soaps and shampoos and anything he could get his hands on. He steered her out of the bathroom, kept her facing the door and told her to stay there. "Don't look back, okay?" he begged. "Just don't."

She didn't listen, turning around to see Blaine searching the man's pockets. He lay still on the floor, so very still. She'd never known anyone to ever be that still and it crashed over her like a tidal wave. There was a reason Blaine could take the time – as short as it had been – to wash up. There was a reason the man hadn't come after them again. There was a reason the room was so quiet. He was dead. He was dead and Blaine had killed him.

Her knees gave out again and she fell once more to the floor. Blaine whirled around, cursing as he pocketed the man's wallet as his own and rushed to her side. "I told you not to look," he whispered, his arms hooking underneath her legs and at the small of her back as he carried her out of the room. She buried her head in his chest as the tears started once again, and she couldn't imagine a time when they might stop.

-:-

By the time the bus pulled up, Rachel had trickled down into silent sobs, still heaving as he pulled her on board, explaining a death in the family to the driver as they passed him on their way to the back row. Blaine was still shaken up, was sure he'd be for the rest of his life, but he didn't regret it. He knew that. The guy was scum, even worse than they were, and Blaine had sworn the day that he followed Rachel away that he'd do whatever it took to protect her.

He'd failed, in so many aspects. But this-he was going to make it right, eventually. They were done moving around, would find some way to hide away in the city she'd dreamed of since she was a toddler, and he'd take care of her the way he was supposed to. He let her cry out all her tears now, whispering about how they were on their way, that New York was only seven hours away now, six, that they'd figure out a way to survive there just as they always had before. That he wasn't going to let another guy touch her, no one else would ever lay a finger on her again.

He wanted them to be truths, even if he had a vague fear it was lies, but he kept telling her how she'd sit in Times Square like the dreamer she'd once been, that they'd figure out a way to make it work, that somehow, someway, she was going to star on one of those stages.

"Just like you always wanted," Blaine whispered, Rachel's arms tight around him as she started to fall into an uneasy sleep. "Your beautiful face on those billboards, your voice amplified in theaters all across Broadway." It was a dream both had forgotten, for so long, and in light of everything it was highly unpractical.

But it was all she had to hold onto, now, and he was going to make sure that someday it'd be a reality. They'd just have to suffer through until then.

* * *

><p><strong>AN2: <strong>Still Kira's fault; don't yell at Ashley.

_we write, you read, you review, we'll try to write other things... unless you kick Kira out of the collaboration team._


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